Smithers [During same meltdown scare]: Sir, there may never be another time to sayI love you, sir.Mr. Burns: Oh, hot dog! Thanks for making my last few moments on Earth socially awkward.

Smithers: Sir, in the spirit of the festival and everything, Id just like to say thatIlove you.Mr. Burns: Hmm?Smithers: In those colors! [Aside] Oh, who am I kidding? The boathouse was the time!

Mr. Burns: Now get down here so I can spank you in front of this gawking rabble. Smithers, take off my belt.Smithers: With pleasure, sir!

Smithers: I think women and sea-men dont mix.Mr. Burns: We know what you think.

Mr. Burns [At the ballet]: Bah! Far too much dancing, not nearly enough prancing!Smithers: A little mincing would be nice.

Mr. Burns [Writing]: Memorandum to Mrs. Bouvier, re: delineation of romantic intentions [Stops writing] Pfft! Too sappy! Smithers, come over here and help me write a mash note to my girlfriend.Smithers: Fine. Darling one, read my words and hear my heart speak of a love soft and undying, a love that will be with you always. Sincerely, yadda yadda yadda.Mr. Burns: Thats marvelous! How did you think of that so fast?Smithers: I [Sobs] sent it to you on your birthday! [Cries] Excuse me, I have something in my eye!

Mr. Burns[When a projectile lands in his lap]: Smithers! Theres a rocket in my pocket!Smithers: You dont have to tell me, sir.

Mr. Burns: Dogs are idiots! Think about it, Smithers, if I came into your house and started sniffing at your crotch and slobbering all over your face, what would you say?Smithers: Uh, if you did it, sir?

Mr. Burns: So, another Friday is upon us. What will you be doing, Smithers? Something gay, no doubt!Smithers: What?!Mr. Burns: You know, lighthearted, fancy-free. Mothers, lock up your daughters! Smithers is on the town! [Chuckles]
Smithers: Exactly, sir. [Laughs nervously]

Mr. Burns: Ah, lunchtime! Well, lets see what Ive packed for myself today. One bouillon cubeone Concord grapeone Philly cheesesteakand a jar of garlic pickles! [Laughs] No one will want to kiss me after these, eh, Smithers?Smithers: Well, its their loss, sir.